


Out in the Open

by clgfanfic



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case brings Danny and Martin together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out in the Open

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Come and Gone #5 under the pen name Dani Martin.
> 
> Based on a Houston Knights story.

          Jack Malone waited for his agents to settle down around the large oval table before he began.  "Okay, listen up," he started, raising his voice just enough to apprehend their attention.  "It looks like we're dealing with a group of serial attackers who have stepped it up to abduction."

          "What's up?" Viv asked, leaning forward slightly in her seat.

          Taking a deep breath, Jack said, "Over the last four months there have been a series of attacks and now two disappearances in the Montibello area of Rochester."

          "Isn't that a gay area?" Sam asked.

          "It is," Jack replied.  "Things started out as apparent random bashings, but over the past two months they have escalated to murder and kidnapping."  He looked out at the four attentive faces.  "Eight reported they were physically accosted, but they weren't injured badly.  These were the first eight attacks.  Once they had 'practiced' some we have three dead, five victims have left Rochester after being severely beaten, four are still in local hospitals, and two are now missing.  They're the focus of our investigation."

          "So how many total attacks are we talking about?" Martin asked.

          "Twenty-two have been reported so far.  There's a good chance that there have been more, but the victims haven't come forward," Jack said.  "The community is demanding protection and action from the city."

          "Don't blame 'em," Danny replied under his breath.

          "Men only, or women, too?" Sam asked.

          "Of the twenty attacks reported where we have a victim, twelve were gay men, six were lesbians and two were transsexuals," Jack replied.  "The two missing are both gay men."

          "Local authorities have any leads?" Martin asked.

          "Nothing concrete.  They believe there are between seven and ten assailants.  They dress in black and wear ski masks.  Reports of the racial and gender composition of the group are contradictory," Jack said, handing out copies of the reports to the members of his team.  "They drive up to their victims, attack, and then flee in the vehicle."

          "Any plate numbers?" Viv asked.

          "Yes, but they're apparently using different vehicles and all of the reported plate numbers so far have turned out to have been stolen."

          "Great," Danny sighed.  "They're careful homophobes."

          "Why would they take two of their victims if they left all the rest?" Martin asked.

          "The locals are assuming the two missing men saw something they shouldn't have," Jack replied.

          "Like maybe a face of one of the attackers?" Danny suggested.

          Jack nodded.  "Our focus will be on the two missing men.  The local police have a task force working on the case, but they haven't gotten far.  The local chief of police wants results yesterday.  He's taking a lot of heat from the press, the ACLU, and gay and lesbian political groups."

          "The community isn't going to be very welcoming of strangers right now," Viv said.

          Jack nodded.  "Van Doran wants one of us to go into the community undercover, see if we can't bait the assailants.  They're our best shot at finding our two missing men."

          "I'll do it," Martin said without hesitation.

          Danny turned in his chair.  "Now just—"

          "Fine," Jack interrupted.  "To be honest, I was going to suggest you be the one."

          Sam leaned over and squeezed Martin's arm.  "You're just so pretty."

          "Jealous?" he asked her with a slight grin.

          Danny watched the exchange, then swung back around to face Jack.  "But—"

          "It's settled," he said before Danny could argue.  "You have copies of the case files and the preliminary workup on the two missing men.  See what you come up with.  We'll meet back here at three to hammer out the details of the undercover assignment."

          He waited for each of his agents to stand and head back to their desks.  Danny was the last to get up, and he shot Malone a look that said he wasn't happy about the decisions that had been made.

 _Well, he shouldn't be happy_ , Jack decided.  Martin would be walking into a hornets' nest.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Less than an hour later, Danny and Martin were sitting in a corner booth at a local café, arguing over their coffees.

          "Why you?" Danny demanded.

          "You heard Sam," Martin replied with a seductive grin.  "I'm the pretty one."

          "Bullshit," Danny said.  "I'm serious."

          "I'm hurt," Martin countered.  "You don't think I'm handsome?"

          Danny's eyes narrowed.  "That's not what I meant, and you know it."  He allowed himself a begrudging grin.  "You are just about the prettiest thing on two legs that I've ever seen."

          Martin grinned, but he turned serious when Viv walked over to join them.  "Am I interrupting?" she asked.

          "Nope," Danny said.  "Have a seat.  Want some coffee?"

          Viv nodded as she grabbed a chair from an empty table and used it to sit at the end of the table.

          Danny waved at their waitress, then pointed at his coffee cup.  The woman nodded.  Grabbing another cup, she carried it over to the table and set down in front of Viv.  "Want anything to eat?" she asked Viv.

          "No, thank you."

          She nodded and returned to work behind the counter, leaving the three FBI agents alone.

          "You find something already?" Danny asked.

          Viv ignored the question, looking at Martin.  "You were pretty quick to leap into the lion's den, my friend."

          Martin shrugged.  "It was kind of obvious to me."

          Viv nodded with a thin smile.  "You are the most… pretty."

          Looking across at his teammate, Martin said, "See, I told you."

          Danny cursed under his breath and leaned back to see what Viv had to say.

          "Any ideas how you'll do this?" she asked Martin.

          "Nope," he replied.  "But I haven't read all the files yet."

          "Well, whatever you decide, you know we'll do our best to protect you," Viv told him.

          "Appreciate that," Martin said, confused.  Viv was fishing for something, but he had no idea what, or why.

          Viv stood and returned the chair.  "Time to get back to work," she told the two men, then left, leaving her coffee cup sitting full on the table.

          "What was that all about?" Danny asked.

          "I don't know," Martin replied.  "But she was after something."

          "Think she found it?"

          Martin shrugged, then reached down and moved his copy of the thick file from the booth seat to the tabletop.  He opened it, and, after a swallow of coffee, turned to where he had left off.

          Knowing he wouldn't get anything else out of the man, Danny dug into his own copy of the file, looking for anything that might help him keep his partner, and lover, safe.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Martin rolled over and stretched.  Birds chirped outside and he cracked his eyes open to see what time it was.  He moaned.  It was only 5:10 in the morning.

          Rolling over under the warm covers, he grinned.  Buried beside him, except for a shock of dark hair, was Danny.

          Nothing short of the alarm buzzing woke Danny.  Unless it was an unusual squeak from the hardwood floors, or a mumble from Martin's troubled dreams, or…

          Martin smiled and scooted closer, reaching out under the covers to stroke his fingers along Danny's naked back.  The sleeping man arched slightly, a soft moan escaping from under the covers.

          Martin continued rubbing lightly across Danny's back, his hand occasionally slipping over the man's side and tickling ribcage and midsection.  Another moan, this one slightly louder, erupted from the Cuban, and he snuggled back toward Martin.

          The exploration added bare arm, the back of Danny's neck, and his hip.

          Danny's legs rubbed against one another, his breathing becoming more ragged.

          Martin's hand dipped over his partner's side, his fingertips teasing the skin just above the patch of pubic hair.  He grinned as Danny's hips pressed forward, and he let his hand glide lower, capturing the semi-hard cock in a gentle grip.

          Danny gurgled, his eyes blinking open.  "Whatdaya think you're doin'?"

          Rather than answer, Martin moved in closer, pressing his body along Danny's and kissing the back of the man's neck.  His fingers closer tighter and he began to pump.

          "Awwwww…"  Danny groaned, pressing his hips into Martin's grip while Fitzgerald tilted his head and nibbled on the Cuban's ear.  "God, Martin…"

          The phone rang.

          "Just when it was gettin' good," Danny grumbled, rolling forward and grabbing the receiver.  "Hello?" he asked, then listened for several seconds before he said, "Right.  Yeah, about an hour.  I'll let Martin know.  'Bye."

          "What's up?" Martin asked, reaching out to pick up where he had left off.

          Danny pushed his hands away and climbed out of bed.  "We have to go.  There was another murder."

          "In Montibello?"

          "Yeah.  A woman, this time.  Twenty-three years old.  They stabbed her over ten times."

          "God," Martin breathed, climbing out of bed and trailing after his partner.  "These guys are sick, Danny, really sick."

          "Yeah, and _you_ volunteered to meet them, up close and personal.  You got a death wish I need to know about, Princeton?"

          "No."

          "Oh yes you do," Danny said, turning to face Martin.  "Because if you do anything stupid out there, _I'm_ going to kill you."

          Martin grinned, turning his partner around and giving him a light shove into the bathroom.  "I'll remember that, but, right now, we need to take a shower," he said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Okay, let me make sure we're all clear," Jack said, glancing at the notes he had taken while Martin and the others had explained their plans. "Martin will move into the apartment of murder victim number two."

          "Christina Hart, the victim's sister, gave us a verbal okay over the phone last night," Viv said.

          "You'll be working the locals at Montibello Books when you're not Martin's backup" Jack asked, looking at Danny.

          "Yep," the Cuban said.

          "That's where Jeffrey Street worked," Sam said, checking through her file.

          "Right," Danny said.  "Street left Rochester, but he and all the victims use the store to buy books, and to socialize.  It's a hub of the community."

          "And I'll be trying to get a job at Darn Good Video," Martin said.  "One of the vics worked there and all of them said they also frequent that store.  It's about six blocks from the apartment building, too, so I can walk back and forth.  Since all of the victims were on foot at the time of their attack…"

          "Good, good," Jack said.  "And you?" he asked, looking at Sam.

          "Viv and I will be talking to local residents at the community center when we're not with Martin.  As for the surveillance, we'll be using an empty office in the building across the street from the apartment building.  Martin's wire will mean we'll be listening in twenty-four/seven."

          "But—" Martin started.

          Viv interrupted, saying, "I for one do not want to listen to Martin snoring all night."

          Danny laughed.  "Ditto."

          "Fine, you can cut the wire when you're in the apartment," Jack said.  "But if you take one step outside that door, I want you broadcasting loud and clear, understand?"

          Martin scowled, but he nodded his agreement.

          "Okay," Jack said.  "I'll brief the local police chief and let him know where we'll be."  He met Martin's steady gaze.  "Good luck, and be careful."

          Martin gave him a reassuring smile.  "I'm always careful."

          "Damn it, Martin, we've got four dead so far.  You don't take this seriously, you might be number five.  I _don't_ want that to happen."

          Martin raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.  "Neither do I, Jack, trust me"

          "Okay," he said.  "Remember, all we need is one or two of these guys to press for where our missing men are.  Then the locals can hopefully convince them to turn in their cohorts."

          The four agents stood and headed out to get ready to leave for Rochester.  "Viv," Jack called, gesturing the woman back.

          "Yeah?"

          "If you need more people to cover Martin, ask the locals.  I don't want him flapping in the wind."

          She flashed Malone a smile.  "Believe me, I will."

          Jack nodded and watched her go, a vague sense of foreboding refusing to dissipate.  He sighed heavily and gathered up his files and notes, then checked his watch.  He would be meeting with the Rochester chief of police a half hour after they arrived.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Martin, carrying two soft suitcases, made his way down the hallway toward the apartment he would be using.  The hall was wide, with tasteful pictures and plants spaced along the way.  The colors were earthy, but light, the carpet thick enough to absorb the sound of footsteps.  All in all, exactly the kind of place he would pick – if he could afford something like it in the city.

          The door across the hall from his opened and a young blond man stepped out into the hall.  He smiled at Martin, his green eyes friendly.  "Need a hand?" he asked.

          "Yeah, sure, thanks," Martin said, indicating the second suitcase.

          "You moving into Terry's apartment?"

          "Yeah," he said, fishing into his pocket, looking for the key.  "I heard he was killed?"

          The man nodded.  "Yeah," was the quiet reply.  "It's got us all pretty frightened, to tell you the truth.  You be careful, especially out there at night, okay?"

          "Yeah, I will."  Martin looked up and noticed the man's expression.  "Uh, sorry, was he a friend of yours?"

          "Terry Hart was everybody's friend."

          The agent nodded, unsure what to say to that.

          The man shook off the sadness and smiled at Martin.  "Sorry, my name's Rory Manner."

          "Martin Fitzgerald," he said, opening the door.

          They stepped inside and Rory glanced around, his chin tightening.  He forced himself to study the carpet as Martin set the suitcases on the couch.

          "Want some coffee or something?" Martin asked.

          "Uh, no, thanks."  He met Martin's gaze and smiled sadly.  "To be honest, maybe after you make the place yours…"

          Martin nodded.  "I understand."

          Rory walked back to the door and opened it.  "I'll see you around, I'm sure."

          "Sure," Martin said.  "Thanks."

          "No problem," Rory said, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

          With Rory gone, Martin picked up his suitcases and carried them with him as he checked out the apartment, finding the kitchen, bathroom, and, finally, the small bedroom.  The whole space was sparsely but tastefully furnished.  The bedroom had a double-sized bed, a five-drawer dresser and a nightstand, both made from teak.  The room was complete by a stylish lamp and a radio alarm.

          Nice, very nice, Martin thought as he set his suitcases in an empty corner.  He walked over and opened the closet, checking the wardrobe hanging there.  "Wow," he commented out loud.  "The man obviously had great taste."

          Walking back to the kitchen he rummaged through the cabinets and the refrigerator.  "So, why can't _you_ appreciate these kinds of food?" he muttered, knowing Danny would be listening in over the wire he was wearing.

          After fixing a pot of coffee, Martin wandered into the living room.  He hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling like a voyeur, but curiosity soon overcame his reluctance, and he perused the room.  After several minutes he returned to the kitchen for his coffee.

          "It's weird," he said to Danny.  "This guy's books, his music, his food, his clothes… everything.  It's like looking at myself.  It's… weird."

          He paced back into the living room, heading for the fireplace.  He chuckled.  "Can you imagine paying to get a fireplace put in?  There are some real advantages to living outside the city, but the commute would be a bitch."

          Glancing at the photos evenly spaced along the mantle, he smiled thinly.  One was of an older man and woman.  _Probably parents_ , Martin thought.  One was of a pretty young woman.  _The sister?_   And one was of Terry Hart and another smiling young man…   _His lover?_

          The realization that he and Terry Hart had a lot of things in common washed over the agent, and he forced himself to turn away from the photos.  Walking to the couch, he sat down and worked on his coffee for a minute before he said, "Christ, Danny, if anyone knew about us…  Either one of us could've been Terry, you know that, don't you?"

          He stood and carried the empty cup to the kitchen sink.  He rinsed it out and left it sitting on the counter.  Turning, he leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest.  "It's not right.  Whose business is it anyway?"

          A knock on the door stalled the one-sided conversation.

          Answering it, he was surprised to find the young woman from the photo standing outside.  "Yes?" he asked.

          She smiled nervously.  "Um, I'm, Christina Hart, Terry's sister.  Can I come in?"

          "Oh, yeah, sure," Martin said, opening the door farther.

          She stepped inside and glanced around.  "You haven't changed anything?"

          "No, no," Martin said.  "I just got here a few minutes ago.  I'm Martin Fitzgerald."

          "And you're an agent with the FBI?"

          He nodded.  "Missing Person Unit."  He gestured to the couch.  "Would you like to sit down?"

          She walked over and sat.  "Actually, I just stopped by to pick up some of Terry's stuff.  Stuff my folks wanted to keep.  Clothes for the funeral…  Is that okay?"

          "Sure, no problem," he said.  "I'm sure the police have whatever they need, if anything.  Can I help?"

          "I have boxes out in the hall…"

          Martin stood and retrieved the two empty Xerox boxes, carrying them over to the couch and setting them there.  Christina emerged from the bedroom carrying an expensive charcoal suit.  "It was his favorite.  Adam thought Terry would want to be—"  She stopped, took a deep breath and finished, "—be buried in it."

          Martin nodded.  "It's very nice."  He waited until she lay the clothes out along the back of the sofa before he added, "It's still hard to say, isn't it?"

          She tried to smile.  "Yeah.  Terry was just so full of life.  He was bright and caring and talented…"  She laughed softly.  "Listen to me – the adoring little sister, huh?"

          "Nothing wrong with that," Martin said, taking a step closer to the young woman.  When he saw her chin begin to tremble, he closed the gap between them, drawing her into a tender hug.

          She squeezed his back, holding on as the tears broke free.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sitting in front of the gas fireplace, Martin silently admitted that living outside the city did indeed have its benefits.

          Christina sat on the sofa, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands.  She had cried herself out, and he'd had her start the fire while he'd made them fresh coffee, adding a shot-glass of amaretto to hers.

          After carrying that back to her, he'd sat down and let her talk.  She told him about Terry – about growing up with an older brother who took care of her and convinced her she could anything she wanted.  About going to college with his help.  About being with him when he finally told their parents he was gay.  About him meeting Adam and knowing he had finally met someone he could love for a lifetime.

          She also told him about hearing about the bashings and being afraid that Terry or Adam might get hurt, but they had insisted the attacks would stop.

          She told him about getting the call from Adam, about seeing Terry in the hospital, about being there when he'd died.  And about Adam's attempted suicide the day after…

          When she ran out of words she cried again.  He made them more coffee, and added amaretto to hers again.

          Now they sat in silence, watching the flames jump.

          "I appreciate your help," she finally said quietly.  "It must be pretty frightening to know you're going to become a target of that kind of hatred…"

          "It's my job.  There are two men who are missing…"

          She looked at him.  "I know, but you're not— I mean, are you—?  Are you gay?"

          Martin felt his cheeks go red and he silently thanked fate that it was Danny who was listening in.  Of course, if it had been Viv or Sam who was scheduled to be listening, he would have cut off the wire when he'd arrived at the apartment.

          "Huh, yeah, sort of.  I mean, I like women, too."

          "But you have a lover, don't you?" she asked.

          He nodded.

          "It must be hard, having to hide at work."

          "Sometimes," he admitted.  "Yeah, sometimes it's really hard."

          "Is your lover an agent, too?"

          Martin nodded.

          "I wish more people cared about what happens around here."

          "I think they do.  We do."

          Her eyes widened.  "Who, the police?"  She laughed.  "It took three men dying before they did _anything_.  It was only the threat of demonstrations in front of city government buildings that forced them to actually do something."

          "I'm sorry."

          "Don't be sorry.  You'll see.  One day they'll know your secret and then you'll see."  Standing, she carried her cup to the kitchen, then walked over to the couch and picked up the suit.  "I have to go.  I'll come back for the stuff I packed…"

          "I'll call you a cab."

          "No, I'm staying in the building for a few days – until the funeral, anyway.  With Rory and Adam.  They're just across the hall."

          "Oh," Martin said, standing to escort her to the door.  "Well, stop by any time, okay?"

          "Thanks."

          "No problem," he said, adding, "And don't worry.  We will get these people."

          Christina nodded.  "Just, please, don't get yourself killed doing it.  Terry and the others wouldn't want that."

          "I'll be fine."  He opened the door and watched her walk across the hall and enter Rory's apartment.  He closed the door and locked it.

          The phone rang and he walked over and scooped up the receiver.  "Fitzgerald."

          "Hey, partner," Danny's voice said softly.  "Doing okay?"

          "Yeah," Martin replied.  "I think so."

          "Sounds like a nice lady," Danny said.  "I'm really sorry about her brother…"

          "Why did it take so long for somebody to do something?" Martin demanded.

          "I don't know," was the quiet reply.

          "Sorry," Martin said, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand.  "God, I wish you were here, you know?"

          "I know.  I wish I was there with you, too."

          "Look, I'm really beat.  I'm going to go to bed, okay?"

          "Yeah.  You sure you're okay?"

          "No, but I will be."

          "Hang in there."

          "'Night, Danny."

          "'Night."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Wish me luck," Martin whispered to his new sitter.  He knew Viv would be grinning as she sipped on her coffee and ate her bagel.

          He paused just outside the video rental store, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open, sighing as he stepped inside.  It had been a long, _long_ time since he'd had a "regular job."

          Two women stood, talking quietly behind a counter.  The pretty blonde was slightly taller than her red-haired companion, and thin.  The smaller woman was more athletic-looking, and attractive in a girl-next-door kind of way.  They both wore jeans and lavender T-shirts.  He guessed they were both were in their late twenties or early thirties.

          He walked over to join them, smiling.  "Hi," he said, then gestured to a sign in the front window.  "I see you've got a job opening?"

          Both of the women looked surprised.

          "Um, yeah, we do have an opening," the blonde replied.  "Counter help from noon to eight during the week."

          "Great, I'd like to apply," Martin said.

          The redhead slid an application to Martin and handed him a pen.  "Do you live around here?" she asked.

          "Yep, I just moved in yesterday.  The Santa Fe condos."

          The women exchanged looks.  "But you're new to Rochester, right?" the blonde asked.

          "Yeah," Martin answered as he filled out the form.  "Moved here from the city."

          "I'm sorry," the blonde continued, "but do you know anything about this area, about Montibello?"

          Martin looked up and grinned.  "Yeah, I know.  It's the gay/lesbian area, right?"

          They nodded.

          "And there's been a series of—"

          "Four people have died," the redhead interrupted.  "And the guy who used to work here was hurt pretty badly.  He's moved back to San Francisco."

          "Well, I'm here and I'm not leaving – at least not for a while – and I need a job."

          The women exchanged glances again, the blonde finally saying, "Okay.  You've got a job then."

          "Great," Martin said, smiling.  "When do I start?"

          "Today?" the blonde asked hopefully.

          "Sounds good to me," he said, then grinned.  "Uh, I take it you're the bosses?"

          "Oh!" the blonde said, her cheeks turning pink.  "I'm Abby, and this is Bree.  We're the owners."

          "Great, it's a pleasure," Martin said, extending his hand first to Abby, then to Bree.  "I'll see you at noon, then."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After a long lunch, several cups of coffee, and two newspapers at the café across the street from the video store, Martin headed back to work.  Bits and pieces of the conversations he had overheard echoed in his thoughts as he jogged across the street.

          The recent attacks were by far and away the most popular topic among the local customers.  Theories ranged from a goon-squad made up of police officers, to right-wing extremists, to members of a Southern Baptist church near the community, to other gays and lesbians, trying to generate media coverage.

          All the ideas smacked of conspiracy, but, given the situation, Martin couldn't blame the people proposing them in the slightest.  He had joined in a few of the conversations, trying to undercover anything new on the two missing men, but no one had wanted to talk specifics.  He hoped the rest of the team was having more luck than he was.

          Entering the store, he smiled at Abby and joined her behind the counter.  After an hour of instruction, she turned him loose to take care of a customer by himself.

          After a flawless performance, the man left with his videos and Martin re-joined Abby.

          "So, is it always this busy?" he asked.

          She grinned.  "you just wait until five or six tonight, _then_ you'll see busy.  It's a madhouse until we close at eight."

          He nodded.  "Uh, do you mind a personal question?"

          "Depends," she replied.

          "Have you and Bree been together long?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

          Abby shrugged.  "I'd say we've been married for six years now, but we were together for four years before that."

          "Wow," Martin said.  "That's better than most straight couples I know."

          A cry from the back room interrupted her and Abby excused herself, returning a few minutes later with a baby in her arms.

          "And who's this?" Martin asked, wiggling his finger in front of the baby's face.  Her tiny fingers curled around his and the baby cooed.

          "Martin Fitzgerald, this is Katy Ann, our daughter.  Katy, Martin."

          The baby kicked her feet, bouncing happily, and gurgled.

          "She says she's pleased to meet you," Abby translated.

          "Oh, really?" Martin asked.  "I'm glad _you_ understood that."  He offered to take the baby, and Abby passed her over.

          Martin settled Katy into the crook of his elbow.  She stared at him for a moment, then decided he was an interesting new toy and swatted his nose.  Martin grinned and looked at Abby, his expression giving him away.

          "I donated the egg, a gay friend of ours donated the sperm, and Bree carried her.  Next year Bree will donate her egg, our friend will donate his sperm again, and I'll carry the baby."

          "That's incredible."

          "It was the only way we could come up with to ensure that we both had a legal claim to her, just in case."

          "You know, I never thought about all the hassles—"  He stopped as another customer entered.  He left Abby with the baby and took care of the man, returning when he was though.

          Abby wiped Katy's nose with a tissue.  "I hope they catch whoever's doing the bashings.  I'm afraid when Bree and I walk home at night.  We have Katy Ann with us, and if they attacked us—"  She broke off and shook her head.  "Guess I shouldn't borrow trouble, huh?"

          "Nothing's going to happen to you and Bree, or Katy Ann," he reassured her.  "I'll walk you home if you want."

          "Thanks, but no.  It's not any safer out there for you, Martin."  She took a deep breath and huffed it out, frustrated.  "I just don't understand why people hate us so much.  It took me a long time to agree to have the babies.  I didn't want them to be teased about having two moms, you know?"

          "Yeah, but they'll be raised with a lot of love, and that's the most important thing for a kid."

          "I hope so."  She lifted Katy off the counter and settled her on her hip.  "Well, I have to get back to the orders – it's a never-ending thing.  Think you'll be okay out here by yourself?"

          "Sure."

          "If you have any questions I'll be in the office.  Bree should be back in an hour or so, too."

          "Okay," Martin said, watching the pair disappear into the back room.  He heard the bell ring and turned around, surprised to find Sam walking over to the counter.  "What's up?" he asked her quietly.

          "I thought you'd like to know that the local police have authorized increased neighborhood patrols through the area after dark.  It's not enough, but at least it's something.  Maybe if you find a way to tell her…"

          "Yeah, I will," he agreed in a mutter as he studied Sam, knowing there was something else bothering her.  "What really brought you in here?"

          Sam shook her head, then said, "I don't know.  I guess I was just… mad about two moms having to be so afraid to walk home with their baby, you know?" she asked quietly.

          He nodded.  "Yeah, me, too."

          Bree walked in.  "Settling in okay?" she asked Martin.

          "Sure.  No problem.  Abby's in the office."

          "Thanks."  She glanced at Sam, then met Martin's gaze.  "Why don't you grab a cup of coffee?  It gets nuts in here between six and eight.  I'll watch the front."

          "Sure," Martin said.  "Thanks."

          Stepping around the counter, he escorted Sam across the street to the café.  They ordered coffees and, after they arrived, settled into quiet conversation.

          "You know, when I was—"  Sam broke off and pointed at Martin.  "This is a secret, strictly need to know, so don't you dare repeat this."

          Martin raised his hands, palms out.  "Hey, it'll be just like talking to a priest."

          Sam grinned.  "You wish," she muttered, before continuing.  "When I was in junior high – and through my first year in high school – my best friend was Rachael Thompson.  She was like a sister to me."

          "Was she gay?" Martin asked.

          Sam shrugged one shoulder.  "I wish I knew.  We… experimented a little."

          "I think all kids do that."

          "Maybe, but I liked it.  I mean, it seemed… right, I guess.  But I was really afraid of what my mom would say if she found out.  The more I thought about it, the more scared I got.  I finally told Rachael no more, and we stopped.  Rachael and I drifted apart after that."  Sam tore a corner of her napkin off and rolled the material into a small ball.  "She committed suicide in our senior year.  Sometimes I wonder if…  Anyway—"

          "It wasn't your fault," Martin said softly.

          "Maybe, but I wonder sometimes if I ended up dating boys just because I was afraid of my mom's opinions."  She met his gaze.  "Don't get me wrong, I _like_ men.  I find pleasure with men, but, sometimes I wonder about what it would be like, making love with another woman, living and being with someone like me…"  She laughed softly and shook her head.  "Sounds crazy, huh?"

          "No, it doesn't sound crazy," Martin told her.  "Seems to me the key is the 'making love' part.  Love doesn't have all the hang-ups the rest of us do."

          "Amen to that," Sam replied.  "Look, I just want to make sure those ladies don't get hurt."

          "Me, too."

          "Okay, so why don't you get back to work and I'll get back to the office building and meet Viv.  She's been tracking down some leads Jack was able to get from the police detectives working the case.  Give us a heads up when you start the walk back to the apartment so we can get into position."

          "Will do."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Abby and Bree were right.  About ten after six the store was swamped and it stayed busy right up until eight when the women told him he could go.  He offered to stay longer, but they shooed him out.

          He'd wanted to see if he could talk about the two missing men with them, but they insisted.  So, with a grin and a shake of his head, he stepped outside and scanned the street.  It was well lit for the most part, but there were occasional gaps at the alley entries.  He glanced across the street.  The café was thinning out before the late-night press started.  He crossed the street, saying, "Yo, Viv, I'm going to grab a bite to eat, then head home."

          Finding a seat, he ordered and enjoyed his supper and a cup of the strong coffee before venturing back onto the street about an hour later.  Most of the stores were closed now, including the video store, and the sky was black, the streetlamps providing the only light.

          Taking a deep breath, he hunched his shoulders and started the walk back to the apartment building.  "Hope you're both awake," he said to Viv and Sam.  "Here I go."

          Strolling along Kramer Street, Martin's gaze scanned the passing cars for possible assailants.  Everything appeared peaceful and secure, but he knew it was a false sense at best.

          "Turning onto Hyland Avenue," he announced for his sitters benefit a short while later.

          The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he passed the spot of one of the beatings as he turned onto Hyland.  The apartment building sat three blocks down from Kramer.

          The streetlamps were spaced farther apart on the residential street, and large trees the city had planted at regular intervals broke up the yellow light.  Cars lined the street and were parked in driveways and at curbs in front of houses, creating a multitude of hiding places for would-be attackers.  The lights from the windows did little to chase away the threatening shadows.

          Martin contemplated the fear locked behind each of those doors –men and women, waiting for the next attack to come, wondering if they would be the one targeted.

          A car turning onto Hyland a block ahead caught his attention.

          "Black van just turned onto Hyland from Denver," he announced over the wire.

          He watched the van pass the four-story office building that housed two doctors, a dentist, a CAP, a chiropractor, and the empty office they were using for the stakeout.  He kept walking, trying not to speed up or slow down.  In the distance he saw Viv step out of the office door and wait in the shadows by the door.

          The black van drew closer and Martin tensed, his fingers involuntarily moving for the gun that sat in his borrowed apartment.  He could see two men in the van, watching him…

          "Fuckin' fag!" one of them yelled.

          "Freakin' fairy!" the other echoed.

          Martin tensed as the van passed by, waiting for the sound of breaks, the opening of doors, the pounding footsteps, but there was nothing.

          The van continued on.

          Martin sighed.  "False alarm."  He watched as Viv leaned back against the building, obvious relieved as well.  "Better run the license plate, just in case.  See what we get."

          She gave him a quick wave, then stepped back inside the building.  Martin reached the apartment building, entered his security code and stepped inside, enjoying sound of the metallic snap as the lock slid back into place.  He was safe again, but what about the rest of the people in the community?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Martin was enjoying a cup of hot tea when the phone rang.  "Yo," he said as he picked it up.

          _"Ran the license plate on that van,"_ Danny said.  _"Nothing.  No wants, no warrants, just a couple of traffic tickets.  Belongs to Raymond Tucker, who works for a local cable company.  He was on his way home."_

          "Just a couple of guys out to heckle the gays before they go home for dinner with the little woman," Martin said disgustedly.  "Assholes."

          _"Yeah, sounds like.  A couple of uniforms are paying Mr. Tucker a visit.  Maybe it'll shake him up a little."_

          "Great," Martin said and sighed.

          _"Hang in there, Martin,"_ Danny said.

          "Yeah, I will, but I wish they'd just hit, you know?"

          _"I know.  I miss you, too."_

          Martin chuckled.  "That's a Cuba-sized ego you've got there."

          _"Is that so?"_ Danny replied and Martin could imagine the grin on the man's face.

          "Yeah, it is, but you're right – I wish you were here."

          _"Me, too."_

          "Any luck with our missing guys?"

          _"Not yet.  I'm starting to think we're going to have to catch some of the guys doing this to find these two.  There just isn't anything that's helping us."_

          "If that's what it takes, chances are they're already dead."

          _"Yeah, I know,"_ Danny said sadly.

          "Danny, do you ever think about…?  Never mind."

          _"Think about what?"_

          "Coming out."

          There was a long pause, then, _"Maybe if there was another administration in power…"_

          Martin snorted softly.  "Yeah, I hear you.  But that wouldn't help much, not with my dad."

          _"I'd probably end up reassigned to Bumfuck, Alaska,"_ Danny said.

          "Yeah, and me to Miami – as far away from you can he could put me."

          _"We could always quit, open up that shoe store…"_

          Martin laughed.  "Yeah, maybe we could."

          _"Look, you get some rest, okay?"_

          "I will.  Good-night…  I love you."

          _"Love you, too."_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          For next three days Martin spent his mornings working out at the gym in the apartment complex, then he went to work at the video store.  He ate at the café after he was done at eight, then walked back to the apartment building.

          Three days with no attacks, no suspicious cars, no nothing.  He was getting bored, and anxious.  The longer this stretched on the less likely they were to find the two missing men alive, but he was already convinced that they were dead.

          Now, working the counter at the store, he wished Abby would get back so he would have someone to talk to.

          Anything to keep his mind off the waiting, and his absent partner.

          He looked up as the front door bell rang.  "Hey, Abby, what's up?" he called.

          She walked over to join him and Martin noticed her bruised eye.  "The bashers?" he asked, reaching out to gently check the injury.

          She shook her head and let him inspect it.  "No, not those guys."

          "Who then?" Martin half-demanded.

          She met his concerned gaze.  "Calm down, Fitzgerald.  I volunteer at the women's clinic over on Holly.  The last few days we've had a bunch of anti-choice yahoos protesting.  Some asshole took a swing at me when I escorted a client inside."

          "Someone getting an abortion?" he asked.

          Abby giggled.  "No, that's the funny part.  She just wanted to have a piece of body piercing removed."

          "Body piercing?" he questioned.

          "Yeah, she had a ring in her labia, but her boyfriend was complaining that it was painful for him when they made love, so she was there to have it removed."

          Martin grinned, then chuckled and shook his head.  "You should've told the guy."

          "He didn't ask _why_ she wanted to go in, he just assumed it was for an abortion.  Like that's _all_ women use a clinic for?"

          "Did they arrest the guy?" he finally asked.

          "I don't think so…  He, uh, had to go to the hospital."

          "The hospital?"

          She grinned.  "I hit him back – broke his nose."

          Martin laughed until tears stood in his eyes.  "Oh, man… good for you…"

          She play-punched him.  "Better watch out, Fitzgerald, or Super Dyke will get you, too!"

          He raised his hands in a gesture of submission.  "I surrender, I surrender."

          She patted his arm.  "I have to go get the orders ready," she said.  "Would you mind getting me a coffee?"

          "Sure, no problem."

          "Thanks," she said, heading for the back office.

          "Hey, it's the least I can do for the champ," he called after her.

          She smiled and disappeared into the office, pumping her arms over her head and dancing like Rocky.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After eating dinner Martin started for the apartment, a slight smile on his face as he thought about Abby's adventure.  About half-a block after he had turned onto Hyland, he noticed a dark van cruising slowly toward him.

          "Looks like those two hecklers are back," he said to Danny and Jack, who waited in the office building tonight.  "You'd think these guys would've gotten the message after the uniforms stopped by."

          As the van drew closer, Martin waited for the verbal assault, but there was none.  Instead, the side door flew open and several people dressed in black and wearing ski-masks poured out.  They were on top of the agent before he really had time to react.

          The first two blows – one to his head, the other to his ribs – knocked Martin down and he landed hard on the sidewalk.  The toe of a pointed boot was driven deep into his lower back with a fierce kick made him cry out.  Another kick was aimed at his mid-section.  He heaved, then coughed to keep from choking on his dinner.

          As the blows continued to rain down, Martin curled into a ball, using his arms to protect his head as best he could.  The attackers remained silent as they continued their assault.

 _Danny, where the hell are you?_ he called silently, knowing only seconds had passed.  He watched his attackers as best he could and tried to spot something that would allow him to identify them later.

          A gunshot rang out in the still night air and the attackers broke, scrambling back into the van.  With wheels squealing and smoking the vehicle bolted away.

          Danny dropped down next to Martin, already keying the cell phone radio in his hand.  "Get an ambulance," he told Jack.

          "No, I'm okay," Martin argued, but he was seeing stars from a parting kick to his head.

          Slipping the cell phone back into his pocket, Danny reached out and gently touched he partner's shoulder.  "Martin, look at me."

          "Huh?" Martin groaned, trying to force the words to make sense.

          "Just lie still," Danny said softly.  "Help's on the way."

          Jack ran up to join the two.  "Ambulance is in route.  I got a plate number."

          "Me, too," Danny said.  "New York, B-E-G-2-2-3."

          "Some one I got," Jack said.  "He okay?"

          "I'm not sure.  I think he took a hit to the head.  He's not real coherent."

          Grabbing his cell phone, Jack called in the plate even as the distance wail of a siren reached them.

          Danny looked up, noticing for the first time the people standing in a semi-circle, watching.

          "What happened?" one woman finally asked.  "We heard a shot."

          "Everything's under control," Jack assured them.  "We're FBI agents."

          "Under control?" someone else asked angrily.  "Then why didn't you help that poor bastard?"

          Danny's jaws ground.  "Where the hell is that ambulance?"

          "It'll be here soon," Jack said, giving Danny's shoulder a quick, light squeeze.

          Martin moaned again, but this time he didn't open his eyes

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Danny paced the length of the waiting room for the umpteenth time.  Sam and Jack were both sitting on the couch, trying to read magazines, but really just looking at the pictures.  Viv was sitting near the window, watching the night traffic pass by outside.  After nearly an hour, she stood, halting Danny's steps.

          "I need some coffee," she said.  "You look like you could use some, too, Danny.  Come with me?"

          The Cuban thought for a moment, then nodded.

          "I'll come get you if we hear anything," Jack assured them.

          "Bring us back a cup?" Sam asked.

          "Sure," Danny said as he followed Viv out of the room.

          They walked in silence to the elevator, but when the doors slid shut, Danny turned to the woman and asked, "What's up?"

          Viv shrugged.  "Nothing, just wanted to get some coffee."

          "Like hell," Danny countered, but he fell silent again when the doors opened to admit two orderlies.

          The silence stretched until they reached the cafeteria, bought their coffees and found a table in the far corner, away from the handful of people who sat at other tables, eating or sipping on coffee.

          Danny managed three swallows before he demanded, "What's on your mind?"

          The woman studied her cup for a moment before she looked up, meeting Danny's gaze as she said, "I know about you and Martin."

          "Know what?" he asked, the sinking sensation in his gut telling him he already knew the answer to that question.

          "That you're lovers," she stated matter-of-factly.

          Danny felt his cheeks go red, even as he shook his head in denial.

          "It's the truth," she said.  "Don't worry, I know how to keep my mouth shut."

          "How?" Danny asked, knowing if Viv knew, the others might know as well.  His and Martin's careers could be on the line.

          Another shrug.  "I'm not exactly sure."

          "Try real hard," he urged her.

          She stirred her coffee, then took a sip before she said, "I had a cousin, Dameon Shotts.  We grew up together.  He liked men."

          "What happened?" Danny asked when she fell silent for several moments.

          "He left home and moved to Los Angeles."  She paused, stirring, then sipping at her coffee before continuing.  "He was happy out there.  Had a lover, Jameel; they were together for a long time…"

          "And?" Danny prompted again.

          "I don't know if you've heard about a man the LA press called 'The Sheppard'…"

          Danny shook his head.

          "He was a serial killer.  All of his victims were young homosexual men in Southern California."

          "Including Dameon?"

          Viv nodded.  "He raped his victims first using a police issue billy club, then castrated and gutted them and left them to die."

          Danny swallowed hard as he shook his head.  "I'm sorry about what happened to your cousin, but—"

          "I met Jameel at the funeral," Viv interrupted him.  "There was something in his eyes…  It's the same thing I'm seeing in yours.  I think it's a war between love and fear."

          Danny considered her words for a moment, then nodded.  "Yeah, I guess that about sums it up."  He met Viv's gaze.  "They could've killed him, would have if we hadn't been there to stop it.  It happened so damn fast…"

          "I know."

          "Danny."

          The Cuban swiveled in his chair.  "Over here, Jack," he replied, standing.

          "He's awake," Malone said as he reached them.  "He'd like to see you."

          "How is he?" Danny asked.

          "As well as can be expected for someone with bruised ribs and kidneys, not to mention a mild concussion."  He noticed Danny's expression and quickly added, "But the doctor said it could've been a lot worse. He'll be fine.  He just needs a few days to rest."

          "I want to see him," Danny said softly.

          "Room two-twelve," Jack said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Danny pushed outside the door open, steeling himself before he stepped inside the dimly lit room.  "Martin?" he said softly.

          "I'm awake," was the sheepish-sounding reply.

          Danny walked over to the bed and looked down, studying his partner.  Bruises marked Martin's face and his head was bandaged.

          "Looks worse than it is," he assured.

          "Looks pretty bad," Danny countered.

          "Yeah, well, would've been worse if you hadn't gotten there as fast as you did."

          "Wasn't fast enough," Danny argued.

          "Are we going to fight or talk?" Martin demanded.

          Danny's lips twitched toward a smile.  "Talk."

          "Good, 'cause I'm too damned tired to argue."

          Giving Martin a moment to rest, Danny walked over and moved the straight-backed chair from the corner to the bedside, then sat down.  "Did you get anything we can use?"

          Martin frowned.  "You're not going to believe this."

          "What?"

          "They're kids."

          "Kids?"

          Martin nodded.  "No more than seventeen or eighteen – if that."

          "You're sure about this?"

          Martin looked up, meeting Danny's skeptical expression.  "I've been lying here thinking about it for a while now, and, yeah, I'm sure.  It was the way they moved…  The way they stood…  I couldn't get a good count, but I'd say it was seven, maybe eight of them."

          "All boys?"

          "Couldn't tell exactly, but I think so."

          "Teens…"  Danny shook his head.  "What the hell are they thinking?"

          "That it's cool to beat up fags," Martin supplied.

          "Well, let's just see how cool they think going to jail is," Danny half-growled.  "We got a license plate.  They're running it now."

          "Probably stolen, like the others."

          "Probably."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Danny smiled at Abby and Bree as they exited Martin's room just as he was entering.  Three days after the attack and his partner's face looked like some bizarre military tie-dye design.  "Natural cammo" as Viv had referred to it.

          The first thing that caught his attention was the huge vase of flowers that now took up one corner of the room.  "They must like you," he said dryly.

          Martin smiled.  "It's my natural charm."

          "At least you didn't say 'manly charm,'" Danny teased.  _Better to keep it light for as long as possible_ , he thought.

          "So, any luck with that license plate?"

          "Stolen," Danny admitted, sitting down.  "They might be kids, but they're smart."

          "Damn," Martin said and sighed.

          "How are you feeling?"

          "Better.  The ribs are still tender, but it looks like there's no permanent kidney damage."

          Danny forced a smile and nodded.  "That's good news."

          Martin's eyes narrowed.  "Okay, what're you holding back?"

          The Cuban feigned an innocent expression, but it was clear Martin wasn't buying any of it.  He puffed his cheeks and studied the floor.  "You're going to hear sooner or later…"

          "What?"

          "Rory Manner was killed last night."

          It took a moment for the name to register.  "Oh, shit…"  Martin thought about Christina Hart, and what she must be feeling.  First her brother, and now her friend.  "I'm going back."

          Danny looked up.  "No you're not."

          "Like hell I'm not," he replied, throwing back his covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

          "Damn it, Martin," Danny said, standing, "the doctor said you needed to stay two more days, and two more days it's going to be, even if I have to tie you to that bed!"

          Martin shot Danny a grin.  "You're not that kinky."

          Danny started to reply, but he couldn't find any worlds.

          "Fine," Martin said.  "Two days, but then I _am_ going back."

          Danny nodded.  "Two days.  And we're moving the surveillance closer."

          Martin met the man's concerned gaze.  "You don't hear me complaining, do you?"

          "I better not."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Martin sat on the couch in his borrowed apartment, watching Christina Hart packing up more of her brother's belongings.  She had been at it for a little over an hour, the time passing quickly as they chatted.  He found her an appealing young woman, but she was married and he was committed.  Still, it didn't hurt to appreciate her attractiveness – inside and out – from a respectful distance.

          "You want some more coffee?" he asked during a lull in their conversation.

          "No, thank you.  I have to get these boxes down to the car.  I promised Dan and my mom I'd be out of the neighborhood before dark."

          "Good idea," he said, walking to the door to hold it open for her.  "I'll get—"

          "The door, and if you even try to carry one of those boxes, I'll…"  She trailed off.  "Well, I guess your partner can think of some suitable punishment," she finished with a giggle.

          "Have you met Danny?"

          "No, but I'd like to when this is all over.  I saw him at the hospital, but I didn't want to interrupt."

          "I might be able to arrange that."

          "Martin?"

          "Yeah?"

          "Please, be careful.  Terry and Rory wouldn't want you getting yourself killed for them."

          He nodded.

          Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek.  "I'll be right back for the other box."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sitting in the small office, Danny listened to Martin and Christine Hart talking.  His own thoughts strayed to the night Martin had been attacked.  He could hear the sound of his partner's breath being knocked out of him… the sound of the heaving… and the sound of the blows as they had fallen…  He shook his head, forcing back the haunting memory.  It was _not_ going to happen again.

          The phone rang and he picked it up, expecting Martin.  "Hey, when are you going to ask her out on a date?"

          _"Who?"_ Viv replied.

          "Hey, Viv, sorry, I thought you were Martin."

          The woman chuckled.  _"Jealous?"_

          "Not exactly," he muttered, feeling his cheeks color.

          _"I called to tell you that the PD found the van."_

          "Where?"

          _"Down by the docks.  They also found one useable print."_

          "Did we get a match?"

          _"We did.  Donald Babcock…  He's seventeen."_

          "They _are_ just kids."

          _"A very wealthy kid from a good school – Austin Academy.  He's on the football team and already has a couple of scholarships lined up for college."_

          "Austin Academy, that's old money," Danny said.  "So why's he down here bashing gays?"

          _"I don't know, but I plan to ask him as soon as we have a warrant."_

          "Let me know what happens?"

          _"Of course."_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After an unusually busy night –everyone was feeling safer staying home watching movies – Martin decided to call it an early night and head straight back to the apartment without eating.  He waited for Bree to close and lock the door to the store, then smiled and said, "See you tomorrow?"

          "Yep," she said.  "I'll be in early.  Abby's taking Katy in for her regular checkup."

          "She's a cute kid."

          Bree nodded, running her fingers through her short red-hair.  "You going for supper?"

          "Naw, I think I'll head straight home."

          "Mind if I walk with you?"

          He shook his head.  "I'll be fine."

          "To be honest, Martin, I'd feel better if I did.  You're still not real strong yet, and—"

          "Really, I'll be fine."

          "Look, it's not a put-down of your manly strength, okay?"

          He smiled.  "I know," he said.  "Okay.  Come on."

          As they walked slowly down Kramer, he realized he felt less comfortable around Bree than he did with Abby.  Glancing at her, he knew it was because she was more masculine in build and deportment.  Still, she was an attractive woman, with a biting sense of humor and an infectious laugh.

          "What?" she asked, noticing his scrutiny.

          "Nothing, I was just examining my own assumptions."

          "Oooh," she replied with a grin.  "Scary, aren't they."

          "Very," he admitted with a grin of his own.

          Turning onto Hyland, Martin felt his pulse quicken slightly and a sweat broke across his back despite the cool night air.  He sucked in a deep breath.

          "You okay?"

          "Yeah, just a little jumpy, that's all."

          "I can imagine."

          They continued along in silence until the sound of a pickup coming up behind them caused both to stop and turn.  Seven kids dressed in black and wearing ski-masks jumped up from the bed and surged over the sides, rushing them.

          "Run!" Martin yelled.

          "Like hell," Bree said, driving her heel into the gut of the first one to reach her.

          With more time to react, Martin plowed his fist into the face of one of his attackers.  Four of them surrounded him, moving in and out, kicking at him and striking him with homemade blackjacks.

          The three who attacked Bree were having a more difficult time, but they managed to land several blows while taking several at the same time.

          "FBI Freeze!" Danny yelled.

          The kids broke, but they didn't run.  Danny, Viv, Sam, Jack, and three uniformed officers ringed them.

          "On your knees!  Hands on your heads!" one of the uniformed officers yelled and the kids responded.

          Martin looked up at Bree, who grinned down at him.  "Are you okay?" she asked.

          He nodded.  "You?"

          "Few bruises, and one of them had a knife – nicked my arm."

          "Here, let me help," Sam said, taking Bree aside to examine her arm.

          Danny helped with the kids, then joined his partner.  "You okay?"

          "Yeah, they just roughed me up a little."

          "Looks like you're going back to the hospital," Jack said when he saw Martin sway.

          "Ah, shit…  Really, I'm fine."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Danny walked into Martin's hospital room just in time to hear, "You're what?"

          "She's Chuck Norris trained – a black belt," Abby said.

          Bree grinned.  "That's my other day job.  I teach a women's and a girl's self-defense class at the dojo."

          Martin laughed.  "Well, I'll tell you what, I'm just glad you were there."

          "Me, too," Danny said, drawing their attention.

          The two women exchanged knowing glances.

          "Abby, Bree, this is my partner, Danny Taylor."

          "Pleased to meet you, ladies," Danny said.

          Abby and Bree both grinned.

          "What?" Danny asked, wishing he dared to check his fly.

          "Sorry," Abby said, "it's just that we thought Martin must be straight after we heard he was a FBI agent, but now—"

          "We think different," Bree finished.

          Danny blushed.  "Uh—"

          "Don't bother," Martin said.

          "Sorry we can't stay longer," Abby said.  "But I promised Sam we'd pick Katy up by noon."

          "Come back?"

          "Of course," Bree said.  "See you tomorrow."

          "Okay," Martin said, waving as the pair left, both of them giving Danny a smile.

          "Why is it everybody who sees me knows about us?"

          Martin chuckled.  "Don't ask me."

          "Is Bree okay?"

          "Yeah, fine.  Seven stitches in her arm and a few bruises…  It was a good thing you guys were waiting."

          "Don't thank me, thank Jack," Danny told hi.  "He arranged for the tail on Donald Babcock."

          "When am I getting out of here?"

          "In a day or two."

          "What?!"

          "Talk to your doctor if you don't like it.  He said you re-scrambled what passes for brains."

          "Gee, thanks."  Martin shook his head.  "Scrambled brains…"

          "And that's a compliment, m'man, because you don't have the brains God gave a pigeon."

          Martin looked hurt.

          "I told you we'd be in place at _nine_ ," Danny said when it was clear his partner had no idea what he was referring to.  "When did you walk back to the apartment?"

          "After work."  He looked up.  "Uh, eight…"

          "If it hadn't been for Jack's tail…"

          Martin sighed heavily.  "I completely forgot."

          "Yeah, we figured as much.  Martin, you weren't healed up from the first time they rattled your cage, so this time you're staying right here until the doctor says you can go.  And if you argue, I _will_ tie you to the bed this time."

          "Promises, promises," Martin teased, wagging his eyebrows.

          Danny laughed.  "You just wait…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The next day Danny was sitting with his partner in the cafeteria.  "So, after jack got two of the kids to admit they'd killed our MPs, the Rochester D.A. agreed to prosecute the whole bunch as adults."

          "Good."  Martin forced down another square of jell-o.  "Did they ever say why they did it?"

          Danny nodded.  "And I quote:  'They were just fags.'"

          Martin just shook his head.

          "They're going to prison, Martin.  Every last one of them.  All the money in New York can't save them."

          "Don't be too sure about that," Martin cautioned.  "Their parents will are going to pull out all the stops to make sure that doesn't happen.  You wait and see."

          Danny saw Viv enter.  "Uh, one more thing," he said quickly.  "Viv knows about us."

          "She what?" Martin yelped.

          "She knows."

          "How—?"  Martin stopped as Viv joined them.

          "I have good news," she said.

          "What's up?" Danny asked.

          "One of the boys, Mark Railson, has agreed to testify against his companions.  The D.A. says he's sure he can get convictions with this kid's cooperation."

          "I hope they all rot in hell," Danny said softly.

          "I don't know," Martin countered.  "If others try to cut deals it's going to complicate matters."

          "I don't think any other deals will get cut," Viv told them.  "Railson was the driver.  He never actually hurt anyone."

          "What the hell are we teaching our kids these days?" Martin asked.

          "Sure as hell isn't the Golden Rule," Danny replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Martin dragged his feet as he followed Danny into the office.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted to stretch out on the sofa and watch Danny play with the remote.  He wanted to reach out and—

          "Welcome home!"

          He looked up, his eyes going wide.  Jack, Sam, Viv, Abby, Bree, Christina – with a man who must be her husband, Dan – and Danny were all standing in front of the conference table.  The group parted, revealing a cake complete with candles.

          He grinned sheepishly and stepped up to see what was written on the top:  Thank You!  Welcome Back!

          "Huh, thanks," he said, blushing.

          "Brilliant speech," Sam whispered as she brushed past him, pressing a soda into his hand on her way to talk to Abby and Bree.

          He started to say something, but Christina stepped up and gave him a tight hug.  "Thank you," she said.  "And I know Terry and Rory appreciate it, too."

          He returned the hug.  "I was just doing my job."

          She pulled back and grinned at him.  "And you did it so well, too."

          They both laughed.

          Dan stepped up and shook Martin's hand.  "I appreciate it, too.  Terry was a great guy."

          "I'm just sorry I didn't get to meet him," Martin told them.

          "He would have liked you," Christina said, glancing briefly at Danny.  "Both of you."

          The pair moved off and Abby and Bree took their place.

          "Where's Katy?" Martin asked.

          "Oh, this is way past her bedtime," Abby said.  "But she sends her love."

          "How are you?" Bree asked.

          "Oh, I'm fine.  But, uh, when can I sign up for some of those classes you teach?"

          Bree laughed.  "I'll see what I can arrange."

          They both gave the detective a hug, then Abby handed him a knife.  "Now, get busy, mister.  There's a cake to cut for all us hungry folks."

          "Yes, ma'am," Martin said, moving to carve the cake into equal pieces.

          Viv walked by, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.  "Glad you're back.  Maybe now that partner of yours will get some sleep and start eating again."

          "I'll see to it," he assured her.

          She nodded and continued on.

          "Good work," Jack said.  "I'd like to stay and have some of that, but I promised the girls a night of pizza and videos."

          "No problem," Martin said with a smile.  "How's the case look?"

          "Tight," he replied.  "The good guys won this one."

          "About time," Sam said, passing by.

          "Get some rest this weekend," Jack said.  "I don't want to see you back here until Monday."

          "Monday?" Martin echoed.  Wow, a four day weekend!

          "Monday," Jack said sternly, then waved good-bye and beat a hasty retreat.

          The group settled around the table, enjoying the cake and soda.

          "It's a real shame you're a fed," Abby said to Martin.

          "Why is that?" Viv asked.

          "He was great counter help," Bree explained.  "He's going to be hard to replace."

          Danny laughed.  "Glad to see you've got a second career picked out."

          "Any time!" Abby replied.

          "We're really glad you did what you did.  I know it's just your job," Bree said, holding up her hand to keep Martin from saying it again, "but it meant something that you did it for the community."

          Martin paled slightly.

          "Now that we have the inside track on you," Abby said.  "It makes more sense, but it means even more."

          "If you were—"

          "Thank you," Martin said, interrupting Bree before she gave him away.

          Danny reached out and gave his partner's shoulder a squeeze.  "Don't worry.  Everybody here knows," he said in a slightly depressed tone.

          Martin's eyes widened as he stared at his partner, then he glanced around at the group.  Abby and Bree knew… Christina and Dan knew… Danny had said Viv knew… but Sam?

          She grinned and wagged her eyebrows.  Yep, she knew, too.

          "Oh, boy…"

          The group laughed.

          "Don't worry, your secret is safe with us," Abby said and the rest nodded.

          "Eat up," Danny said.  "Then it's time for you to go home and get some sleep."

          "Sleep?" Martin echoed.  "That's _not_ what I was hoping you'd say."

          The laughter escalated as Danny turned a wonderful shade of deep red.  "I'll get you for that," he muttered just loud enough for Martin to hear.

          "I'm counting on it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Martin stretched out along the couch, enjoying the comfortable softness and the homey familiarity.  Nearby, Danny surfed with the remote.  As he watched the Cuban, a different feeling began to build in Martin.

          "Hey, Danny?"

          "What?" he replied, glancing down.

          "I've been thinking about that idea of yours…"

          Danny looked confused.

          "You know, the one about tying me to the bed…"

          Turning back to the television, Danny said, "Anybody ever tell you you're strange?"

          "No, I'm serious.  I mean, think about it."  Martin wiggled his butt deeper into the cushions and let the fantasy take shape in his thoughts.  "Me, lying on the bed… naked with just a sheet over me… my hands tied to the brass headboard… you, sitting on top of me… pulling down the sheet… doing whatever you wanted to to my helpless body…"

          Danny looked down at him again.  "Martin, you're supposed to be _resting_."

          "What could be more relaxing than lying there, letting you do all the work?"

          A knock at the front door interrupted the negotiation.  Danny stalked over and opened it.  Viv stood outside.

          "Hey, come on in," Danny said.

          She stepped inside, finding Martin ensconced on the couch.  "It is good to see you're following the doctor's orders and resting."

          "But not for long," he murmured softly.

          Viv grinned.

          "What's up?" Danny asked.

          "We heard Donald Babcock's attorney is going to use an insanity plea."

          "Bullshit!" Martin exploded.  "That kid is _not_ crazy!"

          "Let the kid claim he's crazy,' Danny argued.  "There isn't a jury in the state that's going buy it, not given his background and all those scholarships."

          "That's not the point!"

          "It sure as hell is," Danny argued.

          "What if he gets off?" Martin challenged.  "What if he goes to some hospital for a year or two and then gets out?  It isn't fair.  That kid should be facing life.  They _all_ should."

          "You're right, but it's not realistic," Danny argued.  "If the D.A. can get a conviction—"

          "What, we should let 'em walk just because they have money?" Martin demanded.

          "I didn't say that," Danny replied.

          Viv chuckled and dropped down into one of the chairs to watch.

          "What?" Danny asked her.

          "Nothing," she said, raising both hands to fend Danny off.  "But I'd be willing to bet that you two even argue about who's going to be on top."

          The comment halted both partners in mid-thought.

          Martin recovered first and, leveling an evil grin on Danny, said, "Viv, sometimes we even argue about who's going to be on the bottom."

          Danny choked, his eyes going wide and his face going pale, then ruddy red.

          Viv laughed and shook her head as she stood.  "I think that means it's time for me to go."  She walked to the door, then stopped and grinned at Danny.  "Good luck, Agent Taylor, I think you might need it."

          Danny watched her leave before turning back to Martin.  "You can be one nasty son of a bitch, Martin Fitzgerald."

          "I know," he said, wagging his eyebrows.  "But you love it."

          " _Sometimes_."

          Sitting up, Martin levered off the couch and walked over to Danny.  "So, what do you say, want to go work up an appetite before we order some Chinese food delivered?"

          "Chinese?"

          "Yeah, I figure since it's my first night home, I get to pick."

          "All right," Danny grudgingly complied.

          "But first…"  Martin leaned forward, giving Danny a kiss that quickly escalated into a feeding frenzy.  Martin pulled back first, panting slightly.  "Oh, man, come on, let's go to bed, huh?  You make my knees weak."

          Danny chuckled throatily.  "Yeah, the doctor said you should spend most of your time over the next couple of days in bed.  I think I can arrange that."

          Martin followed Danny back to the bedroom.  "I was hoping that's what you'd say."

          In the bedroom Danny reached out and unbuttoned Martin's jeans, then tugged them down over the man's narrow hips.  "Mmm," he sighed when he saw the growing erection.  "Maybe tying you up isn't a bad idea after all…"

The End


End file.
